


In Smoke and Ruin

by TableTopGamer



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Backstory, Cultists, Demon Summoning, Dungeons & Dragons Character Backstory, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mixed Race Relationship, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Psychological Trauma, Summoning, Trauma, Warlock - Freeform, Warlock Patron - Freeform, brief mention of rape, elopement, farming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26561488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TableTopGamer/pseuds/TableTopGamer
Summary: They sought to summon the Dark One with a sacrifice of blood and life.They succeeded.Only the power of the dark Patron went not to those performing the ritual - but to the one who survived it.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)





	In Smoke and Ruin

Dignity was a tiefling from beyond the Troubled Sea. He travelled to Scrillandar after his virtue naming, alone and penniless. He sought his purpose in the region of Alandel, eventually making his way to the village of Barovia, where he met Constance, the affluent weaver’s daughter. 

Theirs was a match not blessed by the village council and highly resisted by Constance’s own father, who had been raised on superstitious beliefs about the devilry traditions of tieflings and the dark taint on their souls. Together, Dignity and Constance eloped, fleeing Alandel entirely and settling on a farm in Pelimar, on the eastern bank of the Bottomless Shallows and northwest of the Sacred Stone mountains. Dignity raised waterfowl and alpacas, whose wool Constance used for the making of carpets and tapestries that they sold on their quarterly trip to Whitestone.

This was the life in which Floris was raised. Peaceful and quiet, being imbibed with the traditions of both human and tiefling cultures. As the years progressed, tales of unrest came out of Alandel and with it the rumour of corruption within Barovia and the rise of raiders across the countryside. As Floris approached the reaching of his majority, there came the discussion of his virtue naming. On the eve of his naming day, Floris was awoken to the sounds of screams. 

What happened next was a blur. Images of human men, the brutal taking of his mother and the bloody visage of his father. The air was cloying with the scent of smoke and blood, the ground painted into a ritualistic mosaic. They wanted power, power that Dignity refused to give them, poised in his resistance even as they beat him into stillness. Constance’s screams faded, as Floris’ rose to replace them. There’s the sound of chanting - a calling of evil, death and blood being the lure. The sharp repetitive pain of the knife kept Floris conscious, unable to find escape in oblivion. Then abruptly everything froze, falling into an unnatural quiet. There’s no peace in this, instead everything seemed too still, a sliver of time preserved on the precipice of chaotic and catastrophic destruction.

Smoke and blood, a scent so strong Floris could taste it. His body lay twitching, while his vision faded, everything clouded like trying to peer through a veil of purpled darkness. A voice screeched and reverberated in his skull, coming from everywhere and nowhere. A whisper that hurt like the striking of a gong next to an unprotected ear. 

An offer was made. Servitude and service in exchange for power and revenge, for the annihilation and obliteration of his captors.

The offer was accepted.

Floris awakened in the burnt husk of his childhood home. The scent of smoke and ash surrounding him like a weighted blanket. There is little that remained recognisable, except the buildings foundations and smouldering medium-sized mounds surrounding him. Floris fled, grieving his losses while the power and influence of evil within him grew. His nights filled with visions of infernal wastelands and human barbarity, while his days were haunted with the now familiar sickening scent and half-heard whispers, promising cruelty and power both enticing and revolting in nature. Thus Floris found himself wandering the countryside of Pelimar, half-mad and looking for purpose.


End file.
